


A Long December

by searchingwardrobes



Series: Fandom Birthday Playlist [39]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, KnightRook, Parent Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Single Parent Emma Swan, Single Parents, anti neal, not as heavy as the tags suggest I promise!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: Emma Swan knocks on his door the morning after Christmas and continues to do so off and on well past the new year. Killian Jones knows, however, that he must tread lightly, so he never knocks on hers. Until one day in May . . . Although, technically, he doesn’t knock.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: Fandom Birthday Playlist [39]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1239404
Comments: 30
Kudos: 178





	A Long December

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ilovemesomekillianjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovemesomekillianjones/gifts).



> * Loosely inspired by the song of the same name by Counting Crows.  
> * This got way more angsty than I intended. I know the tags are heavy, but the Gothel/Hook thing is only reference to, and the domestic violence scene is very tame. Definitely don't read this if you like Neal, though.

**_And it’s been a long december, and there’s reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last._ **

December

“Know what they never tell you about live Christmas trees?”

Emma Swan asks her neighbor Killian Jones this with flashing eyes and a slight scowl upon her face, yet there’s also a hint of vulnerability in the pink of her cheeks and the way she nibbles her bottom lip. She’s balancing her boy Henry on her hip, and the two year old is nuzzled into her neck with bleary eyes as he sucks his thumb. It’s only six in the morning the day after Christmas, and a knock at his door is already odd enough for Killian. A frazzled Emma Swan shooting him a random question when he opens said door is enough to short circuit his brain. 

She moved into his building about two months ago, right next door, and every attempt Killian has made to innocently flirt with the woman has been met with barely restrained hostility. Hell, even his attempts at being neighborly has gotten him nothing more than an eyeroll. Yet, here she is. 

“Umm, I’m not sure what you’re asking . . . “ 

How can he possibly be his normal, eloquent self? It’s six am the bloody day after Christmas and Emma Swan has knocked on his door. 

“Taking it down,” Emma huffs, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face and adjusting her hold on Henry. “Does a Hallmark Christmas movie ever have a montage about taking a Christmas tree  _ down _ ? No, they don’t, because it’s depressing and irritating and when you’re done you’ve got a damn forest’s worth of pine needles on your floor.”

Killian can’t help the way his eyebrow hitches up or the half smile that tugs at his lips. “You took your tree down already? It’s only six in the morning the day after Christmas.”

“You don’t think I know that?” she snaps, and Henry lifts his head to scowl at his mother in an uncanny way before he resumes his thumb sucking and plops his head back down on her shoulder. “But I’ve got a twelve hour shift today, and I have to get Henry to the babysitter by six thirty, and the tree’s been a fire hazard for days now. So I thought I’d just go ahead and take it down. How long could it take? But now I’ve got a dead tree in the hallway, I haven’t got a damn clue what to do with it, and Henry and I haven’t even had breakfast yet!”

Emma shuffles her Croc-clad feet, her eyes flashing even more than before. Killian takes in her scrubs for the first time and frowns. 

“You’ve got another shift already?”

Emma shrugs. “The ER can’t exactly close for the holidays.”

“That is true.”

“I’m just lucky I got yesterday with this little guy.” Killian’s heart warms as she presses her forehead to Henry’s. “This guy’s the reason I got a real tree in the first place. I just wanted him to have a perfect Christmas, you know?”

“I get that. I’d do just about anything for mine, too.”

“Oh shit,” Emma groans, “I forgot about your kid! Did I wake her up?”

Killian chuckles. “Don’t worry. Alice could sleep through a hurricane.”

Emma lowers her eyes, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. “I must look crazy to you, knocking on your door so early, rambling on about a dead tree.”

“Not at all,” Killian tells her cheerily. “I’m an early riser, first of all, and second, I will gladly dispose of your tree, Ms. Swan.”

Emma meets his gaze, a smile turning up her lips. “Ms. Swan? Aren’t you a gentleman.”

Though every attempt at flirting in the past has been soundly rebuffed, he can’t resist leaning closer to her and waggling his eyebrows. “I’m always a gentleman.”

This time, thankfully, she huffs out a tiny laugh. “And you’re sure about the tree?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he vows dramatically, pressing his hand to his heart. Emma’s eye roll in reply is for once endearing. 

“Do you want me to . . . like . . . um, pay you back?”

Killian waves her off. “No, that isn’t necessary. You know that park a block east?” Emma nods her head. “They do an event every year where you can drop your tree off for free to be recycled.”

Emma lets out a long sigh of relief. “You really don’t mind? I mean, I could take it later. As long as the landlord doesn’t mind a dead tree in the hall . . . “

“Nonsense, Ms. Swan. You’ll be dead on your feet after your shift, and it will be something fun to do with Alice. She’s still on holiday from school until after New Years.”

“Oh, right, well . . . “ Emma begins to shuffle her feet again, and he can tell she isn’t used to asking for or receiving help. Little does she know how much he can relate. 

“Have a lovely day, Ms. Swan,” he tells her gently, knowing she isn’t quite sure how to get out of this social exchange that probably took all of her nerve to initiate to begin with. 

“You too,” she says softly before turning to go. Just as she reaches the stairwell, she looks over her shoulder at him. “And next time, it’s just Emma, ok? Every time you say Ms. I feel like a kindergarten teacher.”

Killian laughs. “Emma it is, love.”

Her cheeks are a lovely pink once again before she heads down the stairs, and he can’t deny a surge of pride that it’s now from his words rather than embarrassment. He contemplates leaving her tree in the hallway where it’s propped next to her door, but their landlord Leroy can be a bit of a curmudgeon, and the last thing he wants is Emma getting grief from the man. So he retrieves it, thinking there’s no reason he and Alice can’t dispose of their own tree while they’re at it. If the apartment will be littered with pine needles soon anyway, what are a few more?

Emma wasn’t kidding when she said it had been a fire hazard for days. When Killian picks the thing up, it reminds him of Charlie Brown’s tree. So many needles fall as he hoists it, that they make a soft tinkling sound on the worn hallway carpet. It’s incredibly light, a foot shorter than he is, and has sparse branches. It can’t have been much of a tree even when new, and it makes his heart break just a tiny bit

“You’ve had a tough December, haven’t you?” 

Killian says it to the tree, but he’s thinking of Emma and Henry. 

January

“Do you have a toolbox I can borrow?”

Emma Swan is soaked, her hair sticking to her cheeks and her long sleeved tee leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Killian forces his gaze to remain on her face, swallowing thickly. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, so he simply nods and rushes to retrieve his toolbox from underneath the kitchen sink. Before he hands it to her, his brow creases with concern. 

“Can I help you with something, Swan?”

She scowls and grabs the handle of the toolbox, but he doesn’t let go. 

“Nope, just the toolbox. And I told you - it’s Emma.”

“I didn’t say  _ Ms _ .”

“You’re also not letting go of the damn toolbox,” she snaps while giving the box a tug.

He relinquishes it then, lifting his hand to scratch behind his ear. “I’m quite handy if you’re in a pinch,” he tells her, but she’s already rushing back to her own door.

“I can take care of myself,” she practically shouts before she slams her door shut.

Killian chuckles as he shakes his head fondly.

“Who was that, Papa?” Alice asks from her spot at the kitchen table where she’s eating her morning oatmeal.

“An amazing woman, starfish, who lives next door.” 

He never does get his toolbox back.

February

“Did you write this?”

Emma Swan is standing in his doorway holding up a book that she’s clearly checked out from the library, judging by the plastic covering and the stickers on the binding. Killian smiles fondly at the title:  _ Tilly Joins a Pirate Crew _ . 

“Aye, guilty as charged.”

“It’s really good,” she tells him with a genuine smile. “Henry loved it. I wish I could get you to sign it, but it’s from the library.”

“Don’t apologize. Writers are huge fans of libraries.”

Emma smiles a bit shyly, then turns the book in her hands. “It’s a series I noticed. How many are there? Henry was pointing at all these other ones shown on the back cover.” Her gaze turns soft as she imitates her two year old. “Dis one, dis one, dis one - that’s what he said. Which is two year old speak for I want to read these, too.”

“Um, yes,” Killian tells her, leaning closer to see her copy, “this shows the first three, then there’s this one, but there’s also  _ Tilly Goes to the Moon _ and  _ Tilly on Safari _ .”

He looks up to see Emma’s gaze on him instead of the book in her hands. She’s closer than he realized, and he can see the flecks of gold in her light green eyes. 

“And your bio says you write books for adults too?”

Killian gives a wry laugh as he pulls back to put space between them. “I used to, but Alice is my only muse these days.”

Emma nods, grinning broadly, “I thought Tilly might be based on your daughter. Henry will be ecstatic the next time we run into you in the lobby when I tell him she’s the real Tilly.”

“I wouldn’t do that actually,” Killian tells her in a low voice, leaning closer once again. “My lass will adamantly inform you that she is Alice Jones, thank you very much.”

“Of course she will.” Emma’s gaze darts from his eyes to his lips. Then again, that may be just wishful thinking. 

“I can get you some autographed copies if you’d like.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t -”

“Free of charge, of course.”

Emma hugs the book to her chest, and he can see her mental battle play across her face.

“For Henry?” Killian adds, and it’s the thought of her son that causes her to yield. 

“Okay. I suppose that would be alright.” She lifts a hand to tuck a stray hair behind her ear and shuffles her feet. He’s come to learn that it’s a nervous habit. “Goodbye, Killian.”

“Goodbye, Emma.”

One of these days he’ll invite her in - once she no longer seems to dash from his door like a startled bird. 

March

“So how many hats has Alice gone through this winter?”

Emma Swan’s voice trails off at the end, the smile vanishing from her face when she sees Eloise standing there. Killian has never been so happy to see his Swan. He practically shoves Eloise aside to get to Emma, clearing his voice loudly. 

“Swan! So lovely to see you. Eloise was just leaving.” He looks pointedly at the woman. 

“Yes, I suppose I’ve said all that needs to be said.” 

She looks at him coldly, and he tries not to shudder. His body deflates as soon as he can no longer see her in the stairwell. He turns to Emma with a wobbly smile. She’s standing there looking confused, twisting a wool hat in her hands. It looks familiar, and Killian realizes its Alice’s. The one they couldn’t find when she left for school this morning. 

“Could you . . . would you like to come in? I just made a pot of fresh coffee.”

“Sure,” Emma says, giving her head a small shake, “I have a few minutes. I found Alice’s hat on the walk outside and thought I’d run home on my break to give it to you. The temperature is supposed to drop later this afternoon.”

“That was thoughtful,” Killian says, “but you didn’t have to do that.”

Emma waves off his concern. “The hospital is only two blocks, and I wanted to enjoy a walk before the weather changes. I am  _ so  _ ready for spring.”

“Aren’t we all?” They both fall silent as he pours the coffee and sets out the cream and sugar. He notes how she does her coffee - sweet enough to cause a toothache. He doesn’t know why, but he files the information away. 

“Three,” he tells her over the rim of his mug.

Emma cocks her head. “Pardon?”

“The answer to your question when Eloise opened the door,” he tells her, setting his mug back down. “That is the third hat I have had to buy for Alice this winter. She lost the first two I bought her.”

“I’ve got you beat then,” Emma counters smugly. “Henry is on his fifth hat.”

Killian whistles in sympathy and then chuckles. They fall silent again, but he knows the question that is coming when Emma begins to stare plaintively into her coffee. 

“So, Eloise . . . “

“Alice’s mother.”

“Oh.”

Killian knows he should probably elaborate, but just Eloise being here has already made 

him feel completely unsteady. He refuses to have a full blown panic attack in front of Emma. She doesn’t press him for more information, however, and they fall silent once again. 

“The Pirate Politico Series,” Emma blurts out. 

Killian raises one eyebrow. “Seems we’re playing some sort of word association game today.”

“The thriller series you wrote. You were a bestselling author of political thrillers.” She gestures around his modest apartment. “What are you doing living here?”

He follows her gaze around the small space, the open concept kitchen/living combo with he and Alice’s art supplies crammed in the corner, the two doors side by side that lead into their miniscule bedrooms, and on the other side, the bathroom he shares with Alice. It’s so small he’s knocked his shins on the tub more than once while trying to trim his beard or brush his teeth. 

“Well,” he sighs, running a hand wearily over his face, “let’s just say I’d do anything for my daughter.”

“Meaning?” Emma presses gently before taking a sip of her coffee. 

He can tell by her expression that she isn’t trying to pry, so he lets out a long breath and decides to give her part of the truth. 

“That fine arts academy she goes to isn’t cheap, even the tuition for first grade, and you know as well as I what real estate costs here in the city. But my Alice is immensely talented, and I will cultivate that and encourage it no matter what it costs.”

Emma nods, a knowing smile upon her lips. “You’re preaching to the choir, Jones.” 

She doesn’t get to stay long, but he cherishes every word, every glance, every blush when he innocently flirts with her. When she rises from the table and heads to the door, she turns nervously before she reaches for the doorknob. “Um, I also wanted to ask . . . or, Henry wanted to ask, if you and Alice would like to come to his birthday party this Friday night. It’s nothing much. We’re just getting together at that pizza place next door. Around six? It’ll be us, Henry’s babysitter Mary Margaret, her husband, and their little boy Leo. Leo’s in kindergarten, close to Alice’s age, so -”

“We’d love to, Swan,” Killian interrupts her with a gentle voice and an easy smile. 

She lets out a breath, and he can’t believe she was so nervous offering such a sweet and innocent invitation. He wonders as he has so many times who wounded her so deeply. 

“That’s great. I’m so glad - er, or that is, Henry will be so glad.”

“So will Alice,” he tells her softly.

She rewards him with a pretty blush before she closes the door behind her. 

April

“Have you seen Henry? Is he here?”

Emma’s words combined with the terror in her voice and the paleness of her skin makes Killian’s heart plummet.

“No! Alice, have you seen Henry?”

She shakes her head no as she abandons the painting she was working on to race to the door. “Is Henry okay?”

“I don’t know!” Emma cries out, racing towards the stairs. Killian and Alice are right on her heels. “I collapsed after my shift, but Henry was napping too, right next to me. I woke up, and he was gone! Then I saw that I forgot to lock the door!”

“He’s only three, Swan, he can’t have gotten far.”

Killian reaches out to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze, but she barely notices. The three of them race down the three flights, calling Henry’s name. When they reach the lobby, they check behind the potted plants and the trash cans, but still no Henry. They burst outside, still calling his name, though Henry’s nowhere to be seen on the sidewalk. Emma races out into the street, angry drivers laying on their horns and swearing in her wake. Killian pulls her back to the curb, but her fists fly out, landing on his chest. A hysterical choking sound escapes her lips, but no tears come - not yet. 

“I have to -”

Emma’s shout is interrupted by Alice’s voice. “He’s over here!”

The adults whirl around to see Alice by the apartment steps. They race to her, and there is Henry crouched in the open space beneath them. A tiny ball of black and white fur is curled in his lap. Emma’s tears come then as she scoops the lad up, showering his face with kisses and clutching him to her chest. 

“Henry, oh God, oh God. You scared me to death! Never, ever do that again!”

She sets Henry down on the bottom step and kneels in front of him, her hands skimming over his small frame as if checking to see if he’s in one piece. Henry seems completely oblivious to his mother’s turmoil, grinning up at her as he lifts the tiny animal he’s discovered. It’s a kitten, scrawny and mewling softly. It’s mostly white with black patches, one around its right eye.

“Look what I found, Mommy!”

Emma’s trembling, her face wet with tears, and Killian can tell the words just won’t come. He kneels down next to her and reaches out for the kitten. 

“Well, would you look at that,” he says, smiling at Henry.

“It’s super skinny,” Alice comments worriedly.

“Nothing a little tuna can’t fix,” Killian assures the children, “and I think we have a can upstairs.”

“Good,” Alice says with a wrinkle of her nose, “then you won’t make  _ me  _ eat it.”

The four of them head back inside, but at the top of the first flight of stairs, Emma grasps his arm. 

“Henry can’t keep that kitten,” she whispers. “My shifts are way too long to take care of it.”

“But I work at home,” Killian points out, “and Henry can come over and play with it any time he likes.”

Emma’s brow furrows. “But that’s a lot of work and money. You’d have to get a litter box, and clean up after it, and -”

“And Alice and I will enjoy it. She’s been pestering me for a pet anyway. Everybody wins.” He raises a finger and presses it lightly to Emma’s nose. “And don’t say a word about giving me money, Emma. That’s not how things work between friends.”

Emma’s shoulders finally relax, though he can still see tension in her face, and both of her hands are clenched into fists. He knows it isn’t about the cat anyway, so he gives her space and quiet while he, Henry, and Alice feed the kitten. Emma slowly lowers herself into one of his kitchen chairs, and Killian notices that she’s trembling slightly.

“You know what?” he announces brightly to the kids. “I think what this kitten needs next is some green grass and fresh air. How about we take him to the park?”

“How do we know it’s a him?” Alice asks.

“Hmmm . . . “ Killian replies, lifting the kitten and turning it belly up. “Aye, definitely a boy.”

“But how could you tell?” Alice presses. 

He colors slightly because Emma’s there, but he’s always tried to answer Alice’s questions honestly. He gives her a brief explanation of cat anatomy, hoping Emma doesn’t mind her three year old listening in.

“Oh, he has a wee wee like me!” Henry proclaims, and behind them Emma bursts out laughing. 

“I’m glad this is so amusing to you, Swan.” He smiles, however, relieved to hear her laugh.

Emma shrugs. “I’ve just never seen your face so red.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Tremendously.”

They head to the park, and Emma seems more and more relaxed as they walk. They sink onto a bench side by side as Alice and Henry race to the playground equipment. The kitten is cradled in Henry’s arms, and when they reach the mulch covered play area, they set it down. The kitten takes a few tentative steps on the strange surface, but it’s only a few minutes before he’s racing around, the kids squealing and laughing at his antics. 

The two of them sit quietly watching the children and the kitten. Finally, Killian looks over at Emma and says softly, “Every parent freaks out when they can’t find their child.”

“You’ve lost Alice before?”

“Aye. We were at the market. I swear I only took my eyes off her for a second, and she was gone. Well, not gone. She’d wandered over to the bakery to admire the cupcakes. Never even knew we got separated.” He chuckles now at the memory.

“How old was she?”

“Four. It felt like it took me forever to find her, but it was probably only a few minutes.”

Emma nods then lifts trembling hands to her face. “I was so afraid.”

Killian knows, somehow, there’s more going on here. “Afraid of what, love?” he asks her gently. 

“Nothing.”

He doesn’t press it, and they fall silent again watching the children. They’re taking turns going down the slide with the kitten in their laps. He ponders for a minute if the kitten’s being tortured, but then decides its okay as long as they’re holding it and not sending the poor thing down by itself. 

“Emma,” he finally gathers the courage to say, “I didn’t tell you the whole truth. About why Alice and I live in this neighborhood.”

Emma’s gaze snaps to his, and she narrows her eyes. 

“I mean,” he clarifies, “it’s partially true. But honestly, my royalty checks from Pirate Politico alone could get us a better place. The Adventures with Tilly books are doing pretty well too, actually . . . “ he trails off. He hadn’t meant to brag about his success. He’s stalling, that’s what he’s doing.  
“Is this about Alice’s mother?”

He nods, blessing Emma internally for helping him out. She reaches over and rests her hand on his knee.

“She demanded a lot of money when you split?”

Killian clenches his jaw. “We were never a couple.”

He glances at Emma, but she isn’t looking at him with either scorn or pity. “A one night stand isn’t something you have to hide from me, Killian.”

He stares down at his hands. “It wasn’t that either . . . not exactly. She’d call it that, but . . . “

Emma’s hand slips from his knee to close over his fists. “Killian, you don’t have to explain.”

When he speaks, it’s scarcely above a whisper. “I want to. The only other person I’ve told is Belle, and that’s because she practically pried it out of me. She’s my brother’s widow, you see, and I . . . “ he takes in a long, shaky breath, then releases it slowly. 

He leans back against the bench, watching the children play to remind himself that some things in life are still pure. Emma eases one of his hands open from the fist he’s made and laces her fingers with his. Killian stares at their intertwined fingers, and the words begin to pour out. 

“It was right after my Milah passed. She was . . . everything to me. The love of my life. I was in a dark place after she was gone, but I had one last book to complete in the Pirate Politico series. My muse died right along with Milah, though, and so I was struggling. The publishers assigned me a new editor, thinking that would somehow make a difference. It was Eloise.”

As if she can sense how difficult this is, Emma squeezes his hand gently. He manages a tiny glance her way, then stares down at their hands again, running his thumb over her knuckles. 

“Eloise made sexual advances regularly, even after I told her I wasn’t interested. Even after I told her it made me feel uncomfortable. Some of them even had thinly veiled threats attached, implying it would be beneficial to my career to accept her. It made no difference to me. My desire to write seemed long gone, anyway. It got to the point that I would only have contact with her online or over the phone.” Killian pauses and rubs a hand wearily over his face before he can continue. “The publishing company had a Christmas party every year. They put immense pressure on me to come that year. I had finally, somehow, finished the damn thriller, and they needed me to rub shoulders and help promote it. I remember arriving at the party, vaguely, and I remember sitting down at the bar . . . “

Killian is embarrassed when he feels as if his chest is constricting, and he struggles to take a breath. Emma rubs at his bicep with one hand, her other still clinging to his. 

“You don’t have to tell me the rest.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve gotten this far. May as well get to the bitter end.” He attempts a self-deprecating chuckle, but it falls flat. “Anyway, Eloise sat down beside me at the bar. I . . . I really don’t remember anything after that. I could always hold my liquor, so I wonder . . . Anyways, next thing I know I’m waking up in her apartment in her bed. I was sick and mortified. Getting out of there is a blur.”

“Killian,” she says softly, “that’s awful. It’s . . . it’s evil. You could have gone to the police.”

Killian laughs bitterly. “And you think they would have believed me? You think they would have charged her? No, Swan.”

“But stuff like this is finally coming out, people are talking about it now. With #metoo and everything, people should know that men can be -”

“Swan, don’t say, it please. I’ve never been able to say the word out loud. Maybe I should, but -”

“No, I’m sorry,” Emma quickly tells him, “this is your story to tell. I just wanted you to know that . . . I’m . . . on your side?”

She gives him a half shrug and an apologetic look. He’s finally able to hold her gaze, knowing despite her lack of words what she’s attempting to convey. After a moment, he looks away from her, his eyes landing on Alice. 

“When she showed up at my door nine months later with Alice in her arms, I knew. The moment I held her, I knew she was mine. My lawyers insisted on a paternity test, but it only confirmed what was deep in my heart.” Killian looks intently in Emma’s eyes. “Eloise never wanted to be a mother. She never wanted Alice. She only wanted -”

“Your money,” Emma finishes for him.

Killian nods, and he suddenly feels spent, exhausted. There’s more he could tell, he supposes, but he simply no longer has the energy. 

“Was that why she was here back in March? To ask for more money?”

“Anything to keep her satisfied and away from Alice. I have never invited her to the apartment, though. That day, she just showed up.” He liftsEmma’s hand to his lips and brushes a kiss against her knuckles. “I was so relieved when you showed up.”

“God, Killian, I’m so sorry. You must have been terrified. I noticed you weren’t yourself that day.”

“Until my guardian angel showed up,” he tells her with a wink. 

Emma rolls her eyes and laughs. It lifts the heaviness that his tale had invoked, and they both relax against the bench. Emma doesn’t release his hand, though, and it feels natural to sit here this way. After a few moments, Emma speaks without looking at him.

“Henry’s dad never wanted him, either. When I told him I was pregnant, he wanted me to get an abortion. When I said I wouldn’t, he assumed I’d give Henry up for adoption. We had a huge fight when I told Neal I was keeping him.”

“Did he hit you?”

Emma shakes her head. “No, but I’d never seen him like that. He was literally shaking with rage, but when he saw me packing my bags, he turned back into the guy I fell in love with. He begged me to stay, said we’d make it work, and like a fool I believed him.”

“You are  _ not  _ a fool, Emma Swan. You are bloody brilliant.”

Emma’s smile is bright. “Thanks. It was a mistake to stay, though, I see that now. After Henry was born, Neal wanted nothing to do with him. Everything - midnight feedings, diapers, baths, it all fell to me. Henry was colicky, too, and there were times that Neal would scream at me to shut him up. Again, he never hit either of us, but I was in a constant state of anxiety wondering when he would blow up at me next. I couldn’t do anything right, either. I was stupid, naive, a bitch. He called me all sorts of names.”

Killian’s jaw clenches so hard he fears he might break a tooth. Whoever this man is,  _ he’s  _ the idiot for not adoring Emma and Henry. A single tear tracks down Emma’s face and Killian can’t resist reaching out to wipe it away. She gives him a tremulous smile before resuming her story.

“The last straw was last October. It was the worst fight we’d ever had, and Neal was drinking. He threw a tumbler of whisky across the room, and it shattered on the wall right above Henry’s high chair. Henry started screaming, of course, and Neal stalked out. The last thing he said to me was  _ that brat better shut it before I get back, or I’ll make you regret it _ . I packed Henry and I up as fast as I could and got out of there.”

“That’s why you had so few boxes when you moved in.”

Emma nods. “I didn’t even leave a note. I just left.”

“Are you afraid he’ll find you? Is that why you were so terrified when we couldn’t find Henry?”

All Emma can do is whisper, “yes” as more tears slip down her cheeks. She dashes at them angrily. “I don’t think he will. He told me a thousand times that he never wanted to be a father. He was probably relieved to find us gone, but I still worry. I still feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Killian can’t think of a thing to say, so he simply puts his arm around her and pulls her close. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, and she sighs against his shoulder. He rests his chin atop her head as they silently watch the kids. 

The sun is getting low in the sky when the children run over to them. Alice has the kitten cradled in her arms. 

“Look, Papa, he fell asleep!”

Emma and Killian lean over and smile fondly at the adorable little ball of fur. Sure enough, it’s tiny eyes are closed and its body rises and falls with even breaths. 

“He needs a proper name,” Killian comments.

“Oh, we already named him,” Alice says,

“Checkers!” squeals Henry.

“Oh, I see,” Emma says, gathering Henry onto her lap, “because he’s white and black.”

“I said chess has a board like that too,” Alice pipes up, tilting her chin as if she’s  _ so  _ much wiser than Henry, “but it’s Henry’s kitten.”

“Well,” Killian says to his daughter with a twinkle in his eyes, “that was certainly kind of you, starfish.”

“I know,” she says.

Killian looks over at Emma and thinks how beautiful she is in the waning light. They’ve shared their deepest traumas and their deepest fears, both revolving around the children they both love more than life itself. She’s released his hand to hold Henry, but her fingers still brush his where they rest on the bench. 

And they share a kitten. Maybe he’ll be knocking on Emma’s door sooner than he hoped. 

May

“When are you going to ask Emma to go on a date?”

Killian almost chokes on his oatmeal at his daughter’s question. “What in the world,” he coughs, “made you think of that?”

Alice shrugs as she scoops a giant spoonful of marmalade out of the jar and plops it onto her toast. “Cuz you like her.”

“Not so much marmalade, starfish,” he admonishes in auto-dad mode, “and of course I like Emma. She’s my friend just like you’re Henry’s friend.”

“Uh-uh,” Alice argues, shaking her head. “It’s not the same kind of like. You look at Emma like this -” 

Alice widens her eyes, creases her forehead, and lets her jaw drop open. Killian can’t help but laugh. 

“I do  _ not  _ look like that!”

“Okay like this, then -” 

Now Alice clenches her jaw in an uncanny imitation of her Papa, her eyes blinking and sad. Killian guffaws even louder, tears coming to his eyes. God, he loves this little girl. 

“Maybe you should try out for the next school play.”

“I might,” she says brightly before taking a huge bite of her marmalade toast. With her mouth full, she says, “There’s a summer acting camp, and I -”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, starfish.”

She dutifully swallows, then continues, “I think I wanna do it. Matilda the Musical is the -”

A loud crash comes from next door, followed by loud shouting and a scream. Alice looks at her father with wide, frightened eyes. 

“What’s that Papa?”

There’s another crash, another scream, and Killian jumps up from his chair. He ushers Alice quickly to her room and presses his cell phone into her palm. 

“Lock yourself in your room, Alice, and call 911.”

“Yes, Papa,” she tells him, even as tears gather in her eyes. 

Killian presses a kiss to her cheek before he runs from their apartment. He doesn’t even pause at Emma’s door. It isn’t locked, so he barrels inside. A man he’s never seen before has Emma by the arm, shaking her, and before Killian has time to reach them, the man shoves Emma to the floor. She cries out as her elbow collides with the coffee table. 

“Hey!” Killian yells. “Get away from her!”

The man - Neal, Killian assumes - only glances over his shoulder. “This is none of your business” he snarls. 

Neal reaches for Emma again, but Killian intercepts him. He grasps Emma’s ex by the front of his shirt and shoves him against the wall. 

“It is my business,” he growls. “You are never to even come near her again.”

“You fucking this guy, Ems?” Neal laughs.

Killian doesn’t hesitate - he pulls his fist back and punches Neal in the face. The man

howls and doubles over, holding his bleeding nose. 

“Shit, man! You can have her.”

Killian yanks him up by the back of his shirt. “My daughter called the cops, so if you want to stick around and explain all this to them, be my guest.”

Neal’s eyes widen at that, and he runs from Emma’s apartment with grumbled curses. Killian could care less about the man, however, as he rushes to Emma’s side. He helps her up and gets her settled on the couch. 

“Are you okay?”

Emma presses her lips together, her face pale, but she nods her head. “Yeah, I think so.” She’s cradling her arm against herself, and she winces when she tries to move it. “Did you really call the cops?”

“Well, I told Alice to call 911 when we heard you screaming. I’m sorry if I -”

Emma raises her uninjured arm to stop his flow of words. “No, Killian, I would have done the same. Am I embarrassed? Hell yeah, and now I’ve gotta explain this to the police.” She bites at her lower lip. “But that isn’t your fault.”

“What happened?”

“He showed up at the hospital, and I could tell he was pissed. I didn’t want him causing a scene, and I was about to get off my shift anyway, so I brought him here. I called Mary Margaret to ask if Henry could stay a little later this morning.”

Emma closes her eyes, and Killian gently put his arm around her. 

“I was telling you the truth, Killian, when I said he never hit me. Today was the first time he ever did that. He wanted to know why I left him. Said I humiliated him, made him look like a fool.”

“I don’t think he needs any help in that department.”

Emma is able to snort out a tiny laugh at that, but it’s followed by another wince. 

“You need to get that arm looked at too, love.”

Emma turns to him, her gaze soft and warm. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

His lips curl into a smirk. “Well, you rebuffed my heroics when your pipes burst. I had to prove my chivalry somehow. Not that I don’t think you can -”

His words are cut off when Emma presses her lips to his. It’s quick and chaste, and when she pulls back, she’s the one smirking. “Has anyone ever told you you talk too much?”

He raises one eyebrow. “I beg to differ, Swan, for every time I’ve opened my door, your standing there talking a mile a minute. Peppering me with questions completely-”

She cuts him off again with her lips, this time more aggressively, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. He responds in kind, threading his fingers through her hair and swiping his tongue across the seam of her lips. She opens for him willingly, and he feels the kiss like fire rushing through his veins. He hasn’t felt his way in far too long. When they part, they rest their foreheads against one another and breathe in each other’s ragged breaths. 

“The police,” is the first thing Emma says.

Killian’s brow furrows. “That’s . . . um . . . “

“Another word association game?”

They both laugh at the shared joke. Emma strokes his cheek with her hand. “Alice called 911, and I don’t want the police thinking it was about you.”

“Right,” he says, shifting away from her and scratching behind his ear. 

“This isn’t the way I imagined it, you know.”

“Imagined what?”

“Your first time in my apartment.”

“Aye,” he teases, “I always imagined knocking.”

The Following December

“Know what they never tell you about live Christmas trees?”

Killian twists his head up to see Emma. He’s been wrestling with the stupid tree stand, and Emma’s smirking down at him when she’s supposed to holding the top of the tree to keep it steady.

“That it’s a bloody chore getting them into the stand?”

“No,” Emma replies cheekily, “they never tell you how hot your boyfriend will look with his butt sticking out of the bottom.”

Across the room, Alice doubles over to fake vomit. “Ugh, I’m gonna need counseling!”

“Those acting classes are really paying off aren’t they?” Killian quips. He stands, satisfied that the tree is secure, and brushes needles and bits of bark off his hands. 

“Can I put the star up, Daddy?” Henry asks, reaching up with the gold tree topper in his chubby hands. He started calling Killian that a few months ago, and neither he nor Emma had the heart to stop him. 

“Sure, lad,” Killian says, sweeping him up in his arms. He holds the boy steady as he sticks the star on the tip top of the tree. Emma and Alice cheer and clap, to Henry’s delight. Killian adjusts the boy in his arms as he steps back to brush a kiss first to Alice’s forehead and then to Emma’s lips. 

Killian thinks about the ring in its velvet box, already wrapped in silver paper in his sock drawer. Yes, Henry can go ahead and call him “Daddy” because soon, it will be official. 

**_It’s been a long December, and there’s reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last._ **


End file.
